Carry On My Wayward Daughter
by AriFray
Summary: It's almost summer vacation, and the end of senior year for Thea Casey. With no plans this summer, she actually finds herself dreading it. That is until she learns about the death of her father, who she never knew, and his two sons. Thea heads out on an adventure to find her half-brothers. But how well will that work out for her? (Starts around the beginning of season 2)
1. Prologue

**TEASER:**

I rarely ever saw my mother cry. The only time I can recall was when my grandfather died seven years ago. Maybe she did it more times when I wasn't around, but when she cried in front of her children, it meant something. And that's when I learned my father wasn't just another scumbag in our small, low-life city who left his daughter when she was a baby because he "wasn't ready to be a father".

The tears fell, her face turning red and warm, her mascara running. She wiped at her cheeks, her eyes wandering around the room, praying to stop crying. My mother and I were so different. I was softer. I had a harder time holding back my tears, but when my mother let her more vulnerable side show, we were very much alike. I could tell you almost all of her thoughts during situations like these.

She sat on the floor of the garage, scavenging through a couple old boxes. Her cell phone laid next to her, glowing.

I tossed my backpack against the wall and knelt down next to her. "What's wrong?"

"Cynthea," she choked out.

When my mom—anybody used my first name, ninety-nine percent of the time, something I didn't like was about to come out of their mouth.

"I've hidden something from you all of these years."

Yep. Usual I would get mad, but with the state my mom was in right now, I let it slide. For now at least.

She took a deep breath and made a sour face. "You see, your father he was a great man. Loved him to death." She unstably laughed. "I guess that's literally true now."

I'm sorry, what? Did she just tell me subtly that my biological father is dead? And that she never truly loved Harry? After seven years of marriage her love for him was just a lie?!

"Mom I—" I started, but I couldn't finish my own damn sentence. I felt betrayed.

"He really did love you, Thea."

"Yeah maybe. But then why have I never met him?" I asked. I didn't understand. It made no sense.

She pulled out a photo from one of the boxes. On the back, in my mother's sloppy handwriting, it said August 12, 1992. In the picture was a younger version of my mom and I, as I was only four-years-old. But next to us, with his arm around my mom was a scruffy, dark-haired man, smiling. I remembered this day vaguely, but instead of my father I always pictured Harry there. My own head didn't let me remember my dad. How screwed up is that?

"He loved you. He adored you. But he had two other children—boys."

"Which he loved more." It hurt.

"I always believed so. He used to tell me this ridiculous lie about how he was a hunter. Oh, but not a deer hunter!" Her voice broke through out, escalating to almost screaming. "A freaking hunter of the supernatural."

Repita?

"I used to call him crazy, a schizophrenic, when he would tell me the stories about the hunts he'd been on. We fought, and then one night I told him to leave and not to come back until he got help. He called me, said he couldn't stay any longer in town and then left. For good. I waited a while. Six years. But when he never showed back up, I decided to give him a call, only to find his number disabled. Insecurities got in the way and I started to believe that he didn't love me, maybe never did. Maybe he met someone else. And that the only reason he stuck around for as long as he did was because I got pregnant with you. I regret letting him leave everyday."

"Mom?" I tried to say, but it came out only as air. I cleared my throat and attempted again, my voice breaking, splitting the one-syllable word into two.

"I feel guilty everyday, Thea. I really do," Mom said, whispering. "I wish I could take it all back. All those fights. All those moments when I wanted to shoot the man." She laughed. "I'm such a terrible person."

"What was his name?" I asked, staying calm. I wouldn't let myself freak out anymore. I might give my mother a heart attack.

She smiled. "John. John Winchester."


	2. Chapter One

**ACT ONE:**

The search results for just the name "Winchester" were endless. A few newspapers articles, a couple of obituaries, and even criminal records. What kind of family did I come from?

"Thea?"

I looked up. Harry glanced up at me from his newspaper.

"Yes?"

"What are you doing?" he asked nonchalantly.

"Homework."

Mom peeked at my screen. I quickly pulled up an old, already finished essay. She turned back to the stove, and started to stir the soup, blankly staring into the pot.

_She saw._

"Mom, I can explain." But could I? Could I explain what she really wanted to hear? Which was definitely not the truth.

"It's okay Thee," she paused, continuing on in a more happier, yet fake, tone. "I can understand why'd you be curious. If you have questions, don't be afraid to ask."

In other words, 'I'm only being polite. Don't ask.' But I couldn't help myself.

"Do you know what his sons' names were?"

She sighed. "I believe they're names were Dean and Sam. Cute kids."

I had came across a few pages about Dean. It said he killed a poor girl, but then was found dead right in the same room. But it sounded like Sam was still alive. Maybe I could e-mail him. Would he even want to meet me?

"Do you have any plans this summer?" Harry asked, breaking the awkwardness filling up the room.

"Work, work, get ready for college, and more work." I grimaced. That did not sound appetizing.

"I love summer vacation!" my little brother, Max, chirped in.

My mom placed four plates down on the table. Any other day, she'd yell at me to put my laptop away, but that happened not to be the case today. I pushed it to the side anyway.

"Cynthea, why don't you help your mother set the table?" Harry suggested.

I groaned, but obeyed anyway. Mom handed me silverware and I placed it accordingly.

"Been accepted to any colleges yet?"

"Harold, we've already had this conversation."

"Don't give your step-father attitude," Mom scolded.

"I love you Harry!" Max said, hugging him.

"Kiss up," I muttered.

Mom smacked me with the dish towel.

"But yeah. Boston University," I finally answered.

He nodded in approval. "When do you start?"

"This fall," I said. "That's why I need to work a lot this summer."

"Wanna hear my advice?"

He was going to give to me no matter what.

"Sure."

"Put away a little money in the bank every, maybe day or month, and about the time you get out of college, you could have big bucks! Then come back and take care of your mother and me."

We'll see about that.

"I also got accepted to University of Southern California, but Mom won't let me go," I said, sending a look towards my mother.

"It's too far," she explained like she had many times before. "I still think you should just attend the community college up the street."

I laughed. "Not happening."

Dinner went better than I think any of us had expected. The awkward tension that was present earlier dissipated. After dinner though, I brought my laptop upstairs to my room and searched more on the Winchester name. But it seemed they liked to disappear, come back for a huge criminal story, then fall off the face of the planet again. I was starting to get creeped out.

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in."

When I saw it was my mother, I slammed my laptop shut and tucked it under my bed.

"Goodnight Thea."

"Night Mom. See you tomorrow."

She walked out, shutting the door behind her. I heard Max blabbing from the other side of door, then everything went suddenly silent.

The light flickered above.


	3. Chapter Two

**ACT II:**

I could never go back. I could never go back to the place I once to call home. Home is supposed to be comforting and cozy. That place was neither.

The uncomfortable thoughts running through my head were starting to make me feel real uneasy and fidgety. I wasn't sure how much longer I could drive for.

I pulled over to an old inn that had a 'For Sale' sign up. With only fifty bucks in my pocket, I would die of starvation, thirst or maybe even from the crazy New England weather in a matter of weeks. I had no place to stay, no job, and wouldn't be making it to college in the fall as I was now a runaway, dropping out of high school. What had my life come to?

I got out of what used to be my mother's red Honda Civic. This place was desperate for guests I imagined, so it was most likely in my price range. I grabbed my duffel bag from the passenger seat. From the outside the place looked almost deserted. Inside was no better.

I approached the front desk. A stressed-out, middle-aged woman was working.

"May I help you?"

"Hi. Can I have a room?"

The woman eyed me carefully as if she knew me. But I probably wasn't hard to guess. Why I was running away is something she'd never get.

"You'll probably be one of our last guests," she explained, sadly.

"Aw, that's a shame."

The inn was nice yes, but strange indeed.

I paid for one night, then she rang the service bell. Hotels actually have that? Weird.

An old, bellman came forward and took my duffel bag.

The woman handed him a room key. "Sherwin, can you show this young lady to her room?"

The man nodded. "Pack light, I see."

"Yeah," I muttered, a bit embarrassed.

"Makes my job easier," he smiled.

The bellman lead me up to the second floor.

"What are you doing at he Pierpoint Inn? Don't get much business around here."

I hadn't thought of what to tell people who would ask me. Where was I going? I wasn't sure. I didn't know.

"I'm on my way to visit some family," I spitted out, pausing between almost every word. That didn't seem suspicious.

"Where you coming from?"

"Mass."

"Long drive by yourself," he stated, almost more like it was a question.

"Yes, very," I agreed.

The bellman stopped at a door. "Here's your room." He opened up the door then gave me the key.

"Thank you." I pulled out a couple of dollars and tipped the old man.

"Thank you," he echoed.

The room made sense why the place was going out of business. The wallpaper was curling on the edges and the room was full of creepy, little antiques. I sat on the bed and it sank right down. I might as well sleep on the floor.

I took my laptop out of my bag and clicked on my 'recent history', pulling up my search about the Winchesters. Why don't I go visit some family? One problem with that though. I didn't know where any of them were. The most recent activity was from St. Louis. I could start there. But that was so far away and that meant lots of driving. I had just got my license five months ago. Was I ready for a road trip? People were probably looking for me back at home. Maybe not. I was always kind of an outsider. I didn't have many friends.

But man, when the next person walked into that house they were in for a surprise. Would they think it was me? I look guilty! Dammit, dammit, dammit.

A walk was needed to calm me down. I got up and started to wander around the hotel, trying to take my mind off what I had experienced back in Farbrook.

A man dressed up in a suit was checking in at the front desk. The woman was signing paper after paper.

I pretended to look at old, black and white pictures hanging on the wall as I listened to the conversation.

"I've been meaning to ask. What sort of renovations are you planning?" the woman asked.

The man seemed uncomfortable. "They never told you?"

"Told me what?"

"Ms. Thompson," the business man said slowly, "We plan on demolishing the hotel."

That put a damper on Ms. Thompson's mood. "Oh. I see. Excuse me."

I turned around. They were two new guests arriving. Both men. And one looked like...nuh uh.

I whipped out my phone from my back pocket and entered what I had searched on the computer.

"May I help you?" Ms. Thompson asked.

"Yes, we'd like a room for a couple of nights," the one who I swore was dead explained.

A little girl dashed through the two men, accidentally bumping into the taller one.

I looked down at my phone then back up. Oh crap.


	4. Chapter Three

**Author Note: I realized there is a lot of errors through out this story. I'll probably just post the story, then make major revisions after. So hang in with me, please.**

**CHAPTER THREE:**

I needed to stop freaking myself out. It's obviously not him. Dean Winchester is dead. The internet does not lie. Okay, so that's a lie right there, but I don't think they'd lie about dead bodies.

"Well. Congratulations. You could be some of our final guests," the woman told them.

"That seems vaguely ominous," possible Dean commented.

"No, I'm sorry," she apologized. "I mean, we're closing at the end of the month." Pause. "Lemme guess. You guys are here antiquing?"

The two shot each other a look.

"How'd you know?"

"You just look the type. So...a king-sized bed?"

The other one, who was a bit taller, stepped in. "No. Two singles. We're brothers."

"Oh. I'm so sorry."

"Wait, what do you mean, 'we look the type'?" possible Dean asked.

I covered my mouth to constrain my laughter to a limit, hoping to catch no attention to myself.

The other one placed a card down on to the desk. "Speaking of antiques, that's an interesting urn on your front porch. Where'd you get it?"

"Oh, I have no idea. It's been there forever." She handed the tall one back his card. "Here you are, Mr. Mahoggoff."

Ms. Thompson rang the bell and Sherwin shuffled in. He looked the two up and down, judging.

"Lemme guess. Antiquers?"

I chuckled quietly to myself.

As possible Dean passed me, it was no longer possible, but the Dean Winchester. I was sure. Unless he had a twin. Oh God, I hope he has a twin.

"Good to see you again miss," Sherwin greeted me.

I nodded back in response, following about twenty feet behind up to my room. Our rooms were right next to each other. In a huge empty hotel like this, they had to put me next to a killer?

Dean shot me a flirty smile. I laughed. That seemed to discourage him.

I entered my room, leaving the door open a creak. I felt like such a stalker. But how weird is it that they came to the hotel I had just happened to stumble upon? Maybe fate is real. Did it have to be so violent though?

The sound of footsteps echoed through out the hotel. It was them. I got up, counted to twenty and followed.

The two were heading up to the third floor. I pulled out on phone and pretend texted so it wouldn't make me look _too_ stalkerish.

"Hey, look," said the taller one. He was pointing at an old vase. "More hoodoo."

I stopped at the bottom of the stairs, and sat, trying to catch their conversation. They shot me a confused look, I could feel it. I cursed at myself for being so obvious and I probably was being annoying. Gahh. Honestly though, hoodoo? What is that? They lowered their voices, making it even more difficult, but in a quiet hotel like this, I was still able to make out most of it.

Dean knocked on the door. Ms. Thompson answered.

"Hi there," he said.

"Hi," she responded.

There was an odd pause.

"Is everything okay with your room?" Ms. Thompson asked.

"Oh yeah, it's great," the tall one explained.

That pause again.

"Good. Well, I was just in the middle of packing, so..."

"Hey, are those antique dolls? Sam here..."

Sam...What? What?! Could it be really them? Could my actual brothers be in the same hotel as me? Oh my God, what if they're stalking me? What if they're the ones killed my family? And I'm next? They're following me! I was dizzy. All that blood everywhere, the dead bodies laying in their beds. The scarring images flashed through my head again. I pressed against my forehead, my phone falling between my fingers. It couldn't have made a louder sound. Everyone turned towards my way.

"Everything okay?" Ms. Thompson asked.

"Yeah, just..." I trailed off. "Yeah."

My phone's screen was now cracked right in the middle.

"Dammit," I muttered, shoving the thing into my pocket.

I ran back to my room and typed something new into the search bar, Sam and Dean. But this time, books popped up. It was series of books titled Supernatural, written by Carver Edlund. They told the story of Sam and Dean, as they hunted down Supernatural creatures. Just yesterday I would have believed that this was only fiction, but after this morning, the paranormal seemed very likely.

I searched the nearest book store, grabbed a twenty, and took off.

The drive from the inn to the book store took me a good thirty minutes. To find the novels, I had to ask the old, Hispanic woman working the cash register. Her glasses sat on the bridge of her nose, as she stared down into her own book. She muttered something in Spanish then handed me the first three.

"Gracias." I paid her, then left.

Back at the hotel, chaos was going on. An ambulance was out in the front. A coroner pushed a body towards the van. Dean, Sherwin, and Susan, and a few maids were all outside, watching. I parked my mother's car down a ways. I walked over to Dean and Susan.

"What happened?" Dean asked.

"The maid went in to turn down the sheets, and there he was," Susan explained. "Just _hanging _there."

"That's awful. Was he a guest?"

"He worked for the company that bought this place," Susan took a deep breath, attempting to collect herself. "I don't understand."

"What?"

"We've just...had a lot of bad luck around here. Look, if you'd like to check out, I'd give you both a full refund."

I waited for Dean to answer, before giving mine. He had his eyes on the ambulance. "Oh. No thanks. I don't scare that easy."

"Same." I said, "Besides it was just a suicide, right? No one actually did this to him?" Well, I hope at least.

Susan nodded, almost unsure. "Must be. None of our staff would ever do this."

I ran up to my room and got started on my reading. I opened up to the page of the first one, taking in every detail. Soon I was deep into my book. I couldn't believe it. We were living in a world of monsters and we didn't even know it. One of these things must have been the thing that killed my family. But how exactly did this Carver Edlund find out all about Sam and Dean's story? I'd have to ask.

There was a loud thump from the next room over—their room. I took this as an opportunity to talk to them. I dog-eared the page I was on and walked over, breathing deeply and nervously. I knocked.

Dean opened up the door, he seemed a tad annoyed. "Hello?"

"Hi, is everything okay over here?" I asked. "I heard a noise."

"Yeah, just fine." He started to shut the door.

"Wait!" Dammit. Why did I say that?

"Yes?" Now he was definitely annoyed.

"Actually, uh..." Just spit it out Thea. What was I supposed to say? 'Oh, guess what? I'm your long, lost sister! Now I need a place to go. Can I tag along?'

"Is there a certain reason why you're following us around?"

"Yes." Oh my God, did I really? "We're related. I'm your sister." I did...


	5. Chapter Four

**A.N: It's good to know people actually like. I'm kind of surprised. But thank you all. It's a huge confidence boost.**

**xoxo, Ari.**

**P.S. Most of this chapter is just me writing out the episode. I would've continued on, finishing up the episode, so I can move on to something new in this story, but it's getting a bit long and I just want to post this already. So the ending of this chapter's not really a big surprise, unless you haven't seen the episode yet, then SURPRISE.**

**CHAPTER FOUR:**

I was suspecting him to slam the door, yell, laugh, or maybe even believe me, not get water splashed in my face.

"What was that for?!"

Dean grabbed my arm and took out a silver knife and sliced my arm.

"Ow!" I jerked it away, blood dripping on to the floor. "Listen, my name is Thea. Thea Casey. My mother was Beatrice Casey, my father, your father, John."

"If your John's kid, how come I've never heard of you?" he interrogated.

"I don't know," I honestly told. "I didn't know him either."

"Then how can you be so sure?"

I went back into my room and took the photo my mother had shown me the day before out of my bag. I gave it to Dean.

"Is that him?"

"Yes!" Dean took my question more as attitude, but it was serious. I didn't know. "Got any more pictures?"

I shook my head. "That's the only one I've seen. They're might be more back at my house."

"Well, why don't you head back then?" he suggested. "Bet your mother is worried."

"Yeah, that's impossible."

"No, it's not. I'll even give you a ride. Where do you live?"

"My family's dead, Dean. Except for you and Sam."

He seemed shocked by how I knew their names.

"Do you know anyone else alive on the Winchester side?" I asked.

"What about your mother's side?"

"My mom was an only child, my grandparents are dead. There isn't much else." Of course there was Harry's family, but I always felt weird around them.

"Sammy and I, we're working a job here," he told me. "It's not safe. You saw what happened to that man. Okay, that wasn't a suicide."

He was starting to frustrate me. "Listen here, I found my family dead not even twenty-four hours ago. I could have graduated from high school with only a few months left to go, but no, I ran away. And wanna know why I ran away? Because I'm scared. There's something after me, and if I'm correct, you know how to deal with these kind of things."

Dean stared at me. I would like to think he was in shock, but that was probably a long stretch.

"Fine," he finally responded. "We'll help you. But I want a blood test."

I rolled my eyes. "Alright, bro."

That didn't seem to fit right with him.

"Sorry," I quietly muttered. I had the habit for apologizing for things that weren't my fault. But there was just some situations, when you had nothing else to say.

I walked back into my room, locking the door. I tossed the Supernatural books into my bag. I stripped out of my day clothes and changed into the pair of pajamas I had packed. They were purple with polka-dots, real twelve-year-old like. I debated turning off the lights or not, but I knew I would sleep better with them on. Not that would make much of a difference with the supernatural creature running around here.

I was back in my high school, walking down the halls. Every student and teacher I ever knew was laying in the school hall, _dead_. But it didn't seem to phase me. My mother sat on the other end of the hall at our kitchen table, facing the wall. As I got closer, she turned around, revealing blood dripping down her face.

"Why, Thea? Why?" she cried.

Harry and Max entered. They sat down at the table, almost zombie like. A shower of blood started falling from the ceiling hitting my family. I looked down. My hands were covered.

I woke up, gasping for air. I was not in my school nor house, but still in the hotel, laying sideways in the bed. I sat up and looked out the window. It was raining.

The clock on my phone read 2:14. Had I really slept that long?

Angry yells came from above. I opened my door and peeked my head out. Ms. Thompson was yelling at Sam and Dean, as she pushed them out the door of the inn. What? No!

A car roared as they drove off.

I couldn't believe it. They actually left me. Guess Dean didn't care after all. I didn't know why I was so surprised. I barely knew the guys, why should they care?

I decided to take a shower, scrubbing my head and skin hard. The feeling of blood on my hands from my dream seemed to have left a mark as it still felt something was there.

I got out and put on a pair of skinny shirts and a plain white t-shirt. I applied make-up and put my hair into a side-braid.

I sat down on to the bed as I tied my Converse. But as my thoughts rolled, I found myself staring out the window watching Ms. Thompson place boxes into her car. An old pick up truck passed by. Sherwin was in the front seat.

A breeze blew and the swings on the play set began to rattle. The teeter-totter moved up and down. Ms. Thompson reached out to stop it. As soon as it did, the merry-go-round started spinning out of control. And if things couldn't get any weirder. Her car. Her freaking car drives towards her with no one in the front seat. I jumped up, shocked and terrified, I ran downstairs and out the door. I would be too late, I knew it. Oh God, oh God. If I got out there on time anyway, what was I supposed to do?

Sam dove and pulled Ms. Thompson out of the way. Her car had crashed into the swings, breaking the poor children's toy. Dean ran over.

"You okay?" Sam asked.

"I-I think so," Ms. Thompson muttered. She looked ill.

"Come on, let's get inside," Dean said.

I watched them enter the hotel, waiting behind.

"You coming, Thea?" Dean asked.

I was giddy with excitement. I smiled and nodded. Sam shot me a confused look, but didn't say anything. It wasn't a good time.

We walked into the hotel's bar. Sam and Dean tended to Ms. Thompson. She was breathless. I sat next to her and tried to as comforting as I could be.

"Whiskey," Ms. Thompson demanded.

"I know the feeling," Sam said. He grabbed her a glass and bottle.

"What the hell happened out there?"

"You want the truth?" Dean asked.

"Of course!"

"Well, first we thought there was some kinda hoodoo curse going on," he explained. "But that thing out there? That was _definitely_ a spirit.

She poured herself another shot, downing it in one sip. "You're insane."

"It's been said."

"Sorry, Susan. We don't exactly have time to ease you into this," Sam said. "When did your mother have the stroke?"

"What's that have to do with—"

He cut her off. "Please just answer the question."

"About a month ago."

Sam nodded. "Right before the killings began." He turned to Dean. "What if Rose _was _working hoodoo...but not to hurt anyone."

"To _protect _them," I added. It made sense.

Sam shot me another confused look, but nodded.

"Rose's been using those five-spot urns to ward off the spirit," Dean explained.

"Until she had a stroke, couldn't do it anymore. And now it's back," Sam continued.

"I don't believe it," Ms. Thompson muttered.

"Look, sister, that car didn't run you down by itself," Dean said, "Well, I mean, it did, technically, but the spirit, it controls...Ah, just forget it."

"Look, believe what you want. But fact is, you and your family are in danger. You gotta get everybody out of here. Employees, your mother, your daughters, everyone," Sam stated more clearly.

"Um, I only have one daughter."

"One?"

"I thought Tyler had a sister, Maggie?" Dean asked.

"Maggie's imaginary," Ms. Thompson explained.

The two shot each other a look that could have meant anything but good.

"Where's Tyler?"

We burst out of the bar and ran through out of hotel, shouting for Tyler. No response. We checked up in the Thompson apartment. The dolls were dead. Bits and pieces laid all over the floor, cuts in the softer ones, there insides spilling out. It looked like a child had had a vicious temper tantrum.

"Oh my God," Ms. Thompson cried. "Tyler!" She ran up the stairs into the room above. Sam and Dean checked the doors and closets. I examined the mess. The doll house, an exact replica of the hotel, had a doll that I swear was Tyler. She was standing above the pool.

"She's not here!" Ms. Thompson said, running back in.

"Susan," Sam said, calmly. "Tell us what you know about Maggie."

She attempted to put herself back together. "Not much. Tyler's been talking about her since Mom got sick."

"Where'd Tyler get the name? Did you ever know anyone named Maggie?"

"No."

"Think," Dean demanded. "Someone who might've lived her. Someone who passed away?"

"Oh God. My mom," Susan beamed out. "My mom had a sister, Margaret. I mean, she barely spoke about her, but..." she trailed off.

"Margaret died when she was a girl?" Sam questioned.

Ms. Thompson nodded. "She drowned in the pool."

"Tyler's at the pool!" I exclaimed, pointing down at the dollhouse.

Dean nodded. "Come on."

We bolted out of the hotel and over to the pool pavilion. They rattled the doors. Locked.

Tyler was standing on the second level walkway, on the wrong side of the railing. She was terrified.

"Tyler!" Susan yelled.

Tyler turned towards our way. "Mommy?" She screamed as she fell down into the pool covered with plastic.

"Tyler!"

Sam and Dean kicked at the door. No difference.

"Damn, what's with this glass?" Dean muttered. "Is there another entrance?"

"Around back," Ms. Thompson answered.

"You keep trying," he told Sam. "Come on!" Him and Susan ran to the other side. I decided to stay.

I looked around for something harder to hit the door with.

"So how do you and Dean know each other?"

Really Sam? Does now really seem like a good time to ask?

"Long story."

A sturdy metal, patio chair was down a few feet away from us. I ran over to it, picking it up. Sam took it and swung at the door. There was a loud cracking sound, but the door only spiderwebbed.

"Stand back," Sam muttered.

I stepped back and shielded my face as Sam took another swing. Still standing there. He swung once more, the door finally breaking. He tossed the chair to the side and jumped in, down into the pool from the second story.

I ran in and peered over the railing. Tyler was struggling. It was breaking my heart.

Sam pulled her out and laid her down. There's a moment. She lays there, unmoving. Possibly not breathing. But then, she's alive, gasping for air, as she spits out water.

Relief washed over Sam and me.

Dean and Ms. Thompson finally got in. She fell to the floor and picked up her daughter, holding her tight. "Thank God, thank God."

"Tyler do you see Maggie?" Sam asked, gently.

Tyler looked around, confused. "She's gone."

I walked around to the first level and handed a towel to Tyler. Ms. Thompson helped her up, holding her close. She lead her back to their apartment. I followed close behind with Sam and Dean.

"Don't worry, honey, we're leaving in two minutes, we just gotta get Grandma," Ms. Thompson told her shaky daughter. They walked upstairs into Rose's room.

"I don't get. Did Maggie just stop?" Dean wondered.

"Seems like it," Sam said.

"But where'd she go?"

I was about to give a guess, when there was a scream from upstairs.

We ran upstairs. Susan was holding Tyler against her, terrified. In her wheelchair, Rose sat, her head flopped back, eyes glassy, mouth limp. She was dead.


	6. Chapter Five

**CHAPTER FIVE:**

An ambulance and police cars showed up once again. The red and blue lights flashing. They were probably sick of coming here and getting suspicious. It couldn't look good. Four people dying in the same hotel in the past week. Yeah, that definitely didn't sound good.

A coroner and a EMT lifted Rose's body up into the back of the car. Ms. Thompson watched. She held tightly on to Tyler's bony, little hand. Dean and Sam stepped forward to talk to the poor woman. I walked over, my bag around my shoulder.

"The paramedics said it was another stroke," Susan explained.

A grim countenance settled on all of our faces. Sam seemed especially even more upset.

"You think...Margaret could've had something to do with it?" she asked. Her voice full of terror.

"We don't know," Dean answered.

"But yeah, it's possible," Sam said. "I'm sorry Susan."

She looked at him, full of sincere. "You have something to apologize for. You've given me everything." She turned towards Tyler. "Ready to go, kiddo?"

"Yeah."

"Tyler?" Dean asked. "You sure Maggie's not here anymore?"

She nodded. "I'm sure. I'd see her."

He looked towards Sam and I. "I guess whatever's going on...it must be over."

"It appears so," I agreed.

"You two take care of yourselves," Sam said, sticking out his hand. Susan grabbed it and hug him close.

"Thank you." She pulls away, and looked at Dean and I. "All of you."

"I didn't really do much," I muttered under my breath.

What had I done? Nothing that deserved credit.

Susan and Tyler got into a cab and waved through the window as the taxi drove off.

Sam turned to me. "So where are you heading now?"

"That depends, do I have an invitation to join you?" I went for it.

Sam and Dean looked at each other. If Dean hadn't brought it up yet, then Sam still had no idea we were related. It might be a good time to talk about it now.

"Follow us," Dean demanded. "We'll bring you to Bobby's."

I got in my Honda and drove for almost five hours before we came to a stop. I had gone through my mother's old John Mayer CD about six times. She used to blast it in the car when I was little, singing along. I would always try to sing along to, but I never knew the right words

We stopped at a gas station and I sighed with relief. I stepped out of the car to stretch my legs. Dean was inside buying road-trip food, while Sam pumped gas.

Sam glanced over at me. "So, your our sister?"

"Dean's told you, eh?" I guessed.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"I was getting to it."

"From what I can tell, you check out."

I rolled my eyes. "Well, it's good to know I'm not faking."

Dean came out, waving a newspaper in the air. "Found a case. In Columbus, Ohio."

"What about her?" Sam asked, nodding in my direction.

"What about me?" I asked, crossing my arms. "I can handle another job."

"She can do whatever she wants," Dean said, a hint of anger in his voice. Had I done something? I knew I could be annoying, but we had barely talked.

"But you're not leaving the motel room," Sam declared. "You're not ready."

"Woah," Dean said, butting in. "You actually plan to train her? To be a hunter?!"

"Yeah, why not?" Sam asked. "She could be helpfully."

"And get her _killed._"

A sting of hurt lingered around and in my body, and I wasn't sure why I felt so offended. I didn't want to do this if it was going to get me killed, I definitely wasn't strong or brave enough. Monsters had scared me as a child, leaving me with nightmares. I was still frightened. Back at the inn though, I had felt barely any fear at all. Maybe I was still too deep in shock about my family to feel anything. It all just felt like one big nightmare, or movie. And soon it'll be over. But this one might not end with a happy ending.

"Well, of course we'd never actually put her into harm's way."

"I still don't like it," Dean muttered.

"Didn't you say that 'saving people, hunting things' was the family business?" Sam stated. "She _is_ a Winchester."

"Her last name is Casey. There's a difference."

"I don't see one."

"So how about this case?" I asked, dying to change the subject.

Dean opened up the newspaper, setting it on down on the hood of his car. "Alright. A family died all last week. It says the father shot his wife and kids, before hanging himself."

"So, he's a crazy dad," Sam questioned. "What's so supernatural about that?"

"He was the mayor of the city-"

"Just because he's the mayor doesn't mean he can't be criminally insane," I stated. "Have you seen One Tree Hill?"

The two men shook their heads. I wouldn't have thought so.

Dean continued on. "Here, it says he was loved by everyone in the town. Had won a hundred-percent of the votes during election time."

"Now, that seems suspicious."

"So what are we thinking?" Sam asked. "Crossroad demon?"

"But his death and actions don't seem to make sense with regular hell hounds?" Dean challenged.

"Super hell hounds?" Sam offered, though that didn't sound right. "Maybe he did it so that he couldn't be killed by the hell hounds. Maybe he went to Heaven."

"Uh," Dean breathed out, impressed. "Smart guy."

I watched the two go back and forth, trying to figure the case out. I had yet to know what a crossroad demon or a hell hound was. There had been no mention yet in the Carver Edlund books. I thought about bringing them up, but decided against it. Now would just seem random, and most likely inappropriate.

We got back into our cars with around three more hours to drive. Dean had sped up though, going more and more passed the speed limit. I was having trouble following him. But it got us there in half of the time it normally would take. So there was that plus side.

We pulled into a motel parking lot that looked alright from the outside. But the inside made me feel as if I had bugs crawling all over me. Dean and Sam however, seemed pleased by the roach-crawling, spider-loving, and lice-covered pillows. I was definitely not sleeping tonight.

Dean bounced down on to one out of the two beds, spreading out. "Dibs."

"Thea, you can have the other bed," Sam said. "I'll take the couch."

"I'm okay," I murmured. "I don't think I'll be sleeping tonight."

I just couldn't wait to head to this Mr. Bobby. I really hoped he kept his house ten-times cleaner than a motel room.

"It's all in your head," Dean tried to explain to me. "We've been doing this our whole life. We're fine!"

"I can't believe that you don't have scabies."

Dean rolled over, turning his back towards me. "Okay princess."

I ignored that and sat down in one of the wooden chairs at the matching kitchenette table.

Sam glanced over at me. "You really aren't going to take the bed?"

I shook my head. "I'll sleep in my car. Whatever." I pulled out my car keys.

"Goodnight," Sam called out after me.

I unlocked the doors, slid into the backseat, then locked them back up. Who knew what time of people were around here? I didn't need to be robbed, kidnapped, or murdered. I threw a blanket that I had found in the trunk over my body, curling up in a ball to cover the majority of myself from neck down.

And that night I dreamed, more like _nightmared, the same one from the night before._ I was back in my high school, the bodies around me still dead, and my family sat at the table, being showered in blood. But this time, I noticed something new. Stabbed in the center of my heart was what appeared to be a kitchen knife, but damn was it sharp. It was poking out from the backside of my body. Blood began to spread, from my heart on, soaking my shirt completely in the thick, red liquid.


End file.
